


Hotcakes and Four Kisses

by Azaraethe



Category: Granblue Fantasy (Video Game)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-12
Updated: 2019-10-12
Packaged: 2020-12-09 13:48:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,120
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20995817
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Azaraethe/pseuds/Azaraethe
Summary: Dedicated to Suzu @ TKRB DiscordLancelot woke up early one day and decided to head to the kitchen to prepare breakfast for himself since Vane was not around. Siegfried arrived a little later to prepare a delicious surprise for the young knights. Little did the younger man realize, that surprise was something much more.





	Hotcakes and Four Kisses

“Siegfried-san!”

Lancelot gasped.

He woke before the break of dawn. Sitting up straight, he clutched his blanket, trembling hands pulling tightly at the thick wool fabric.

The knight caught his breath slowly. And stilled his breathing. 

His black hair tousled with a light sweat and his sleepwear in disarray, Lancelot pulled himself out of bed. A streak of lightning cascaded down from pitch-black clouds in the skies outside his closed windows, illuminating the darkness inside his room. Now he stood up, stretched and winced, feeling the soreness of his back muscles. 

He must have slept in a poor position again that night. 

Raising his arms upwards for another stretch, his sleep-filled eyes sight a small note on the cabinet next to his bed. A note with rather ugly handwriting.

He picked up the note and frowned at the words.

“Lancey. I will be in the next town for three days! Make sure you eat properly.”

It was signed with a large V and there was a mess of ink splotches on the note. Lancelot closed his eyes and then released a deep sigh. The note was folded and placed back onto the cabinet. He will have to warn his silly friend again not to enter his room whenever he (Vane) wanted. He was not sure what he’d say in his sleep if someone else was in the room and heard the thoughts in his dreams.

The rain continued to pour down unrelentingly. Lancelot pushed a window and looked out, wanting to check if the training grounds were flooded. The grounds were just below his room but it was too dark for him to discern anything. He sneezed a little as the cold wind buffeted his face. Lancelot pressed chilly hands to his cheeks, blowing breath to warm his palms.

_It would be nice if there was someone to warm him up._

That thought! He slapped his hands on his cheeks now, feeling the warmth from the slight pain of the slap and the heat of his breath.

The visage of a tall, well-built man with serious eyes and chestnut brown hair manifested itself in his mind. Lancelot’s jaw clenched and he slapped his left cheek one more time to banish the image.

Vane usually prepared breakfast before he left for any errand. But today, he forgot. It was quite unlikely him but that was the last thing on Lancelot’s mind. Clad in simple brown pants and a crumpled linen shirt and with his hair still in a mess, the Captain of the White Dragons looked quite un-captainly as he walked into the shared kitchen of the building. 

Only he, Vane and Siegfried lived in this house. The young knights-in-training have their dormitories adjacently attached and were only invited to partake in meals in the main dining hall of the knights’ building. He found a cup, there was slightly warm tea in a kettle on the stove and half a loaf of bread left on the counter. 

He took a knife to slice the bread, doubting he could even finish two slices despite that growl in his stomach. Lancelot tried to focused on bread-slicing and ignore the growing unease in his mind as the remnants of his dream last night tugged at him.

“You’re up early.”

A deep male voice resonated behind him. Lancelot’s hand gripped the bread-knife out of reflex and spun around, the serrated edge of the knife’s blade facing outwards at the sound. Breadcrumbs flew from the blade, scattering onto his bare toes.

“Hey.”

The owner of the voice called out to him and lifted a finger to wave at the breadknife in Lancelot’s hand. Siegfried looked genuinely amused, his wide lips breaking into a smile, followed by a short laugh. He placed a big paper bag onto the table in the middle of the small kitchen. 

Sheepish, the Captain lowered the bread-knife and placed it on the counter. 

“I didn’t know..” Lancelot started immediately, wanting to explain himself.

“It’s alright.” Siegfried put up a hand, signaling for Lancelot to stop. “You have been quite uptight these days, Lancelot. Is there something on your mind?”

_You. _

Lancelot’s eyes narrowed at that fleeting thought in his head and he gazed down at the bread crumbs stuck on the hand he used to hold the bread-loaf.

“No. I am just too tired.” He replied, trying to sound as honest as he could, as he looked up at the taller man before moving towards the table. “Why are you here this early too, Siegfried-san?”

“I thought of making some cakes. For the young ones.” Siegfried chuckled, as he pulled ingredients from the paper bag he brought. “This was something I used to make out there in the field whenever I found a village with good people who could spare me an egg and flour.”

The older man’s eyes twinkled a little in reminiscence. He patted the bag of flour on the table and pushed it towards Lancelot, gesturing for him to open it.

“Since you’re up early, you can help.” He insisted, turning to open a kitchen cabinet, looking for bowls and a frying pan.

“But…”

Siegfried glanced over his shoulder, eyebrows raised just barely at the muted protest from Lancelot. Two bowls and a frying pan in hand, he returned to the table, placing the utensils on it, continuing to look intently at Lancelot as his arms lifted to pull back his long hair, tying the curly brown locks into a rough ponytail.

“I would not take no for an answer, Lancelot. It is raining, you cannot train. You’ve given hell to the young ones last week as well. Let them sleep.” 

Siegfried’s eyes held a strange seriousness as he contemplated the mixture of feelings scattering across Lancelot’s frowning face.

“I wasn’t going to talk about training, Siegfried-san.” Lancelot seemed quite frustrated. 

“What is it then?” He asked immediately, his brown eyes holding more than just concern for the younger man. Lancelot was becoming less and less honest. Or perhaps did Siegfried himself not make his intentions clear enough previously about him?

Lancelot’s lips twitched and his hand moved to rub his forehead slowly.

“I don’t know how to cook.” He admitted a little ruefully.

“You don’t need to know.” 

The taller man reached forward, crossing two steps to grasp that hand away from Lancelot’s forehead. Siegfried turned and stepped behind him now, guiding the younger man to the table and both of his hands grasped by the former’s callused ones and placed on the bag of flour. 

Lancelot blinked. 

Siegfried was behind him. 

He was too close. He could feel the brush of the older man’s chest against his back. The clean smell of soap in his hair. 

That was not on purpose, was it?

“You know how to open a bag?”

Lancelot broke from his thoughts as Siegfried pulled a small fruit-knife from the knife stand next to the kitchen sink and placed it on the table next to the bags of flour and dried fruit. 

“Open all these and pour them into the bowls here.”

Another protest crept its way up his lips and Lancelot bit that excuse back. Receiving instruction from Siegfried somehow felt good and it felt even better when he followed the instruction. 

A desire replaced that creeping protest, sinking itself into the dark edge of his mind. 

Did Siegfried’s hands linger a bit too much on his when he pulled them to open the bags? He had moved away since to tend to the stove. Lancelot completed the task quickly and just sat at the table, quietly watching the older man deftly whip eggs and flour in another bowl. The frying pan was buttered and set on the stove. 

Siegfried tilted the pan at an angle, keeping an eye on the melting knob of butter. His head cocked, his eyes glancing sideways at Lancelot. 

The younger man startled the moment his gaze met Siegfried’s brown eyes.

“If you’re hungry, you can eat some of the fruit.” Siegfried’s jaw tilted towards the bowl of dried berries and apples in front of Lancelot on the table. “I bought a little too much.”

He seemed grateful for that permission to nibble on some of the fruit and he did, picking out a handful of dried blueberries and a slice of apple. Siegfried took the bowl of batter and begin to pour a good amount into the now hot pan.

“I used to cook these in my helmet.” He chuckled, grabbing a spatula from the utensil canister next to the stove to flip the hotcake in the pan. “It tasted quite bad - but when you’re hungry, everything’s good to eat.”

Lancelot laughed, teeth half-caught biting an apple slice. 

“I’m sure it tasted of something else, and not flour and eggs…” The young Captain grinned 

The older man’s lips curved into a smile at Lancelot’s laughter. His gaze seemed to hold just a touch of relief barely.

“I was too hungry to remember what it tasted like.” 

Siegfried remarked, laughing slightly as he brought the hot pan with the cooked cakes to back to the table, setting it down.

“Get me a plate, would you?” He gestured to the cabinet where Vane, in all his tidiness, had stacked the plates and separated it in sizes, colors and materials. 

The young man obeyed, slipping from the chair he sat on and to the cabinet Siegfried pointed at. The doors of that cabinet were opened promptly and his hand reached out to take a plate.

Before that hand froze in mid-air as his entire body was enveloped in a hug. A larger hand reached upwards to push that cabinet close with a soft thud and he was turned around to look up at Siegfried’s face. The older man’s hands tightened about Lancelot’s waist as he pressed Lancelot against the counter’s edge.

“Why are you not honest?”

Siegfried chided his voice low, his breath caught between just a wave of burgeoning anger and upset. The hands clasped behind Lancelot’s back tightened possessively.

“Did I not make myself clear previously, Lancelot.”

“When we are alone, you are free to do what you like. To me.”

That voice of his held just a bit of a dragon’s imperious demand, an insistence that shook Lancelot’s heart.

“I…”

“...dare not.”

That denial was shut quietly with a kiss pressed to worried lips. Another kiss followed as if attempting to draw away the apprehension in Lancelot’s mind. The younger man’s hands knotted into fists onto Siegfried’s chest, his mouth caught half-unwillingly in those two kisses.

Siegfried finally drew away, no longer besieging the young Captain’s lips but still, he held him close. 

“Was it not you who is wanting, Lancelot? Did you not speak of your heart to me that day in the forests?” There was just a trace of anger in Siegfried’s voice though that anger was not unkind and it spoke of a burdening affection.

“I am not sure anymore, Siegfried-san.” Lancelot retorted mutely, bowing his head to flinch away from Siegfried’s vexed gaze. He wanted to slip out of the embrace but the older man held him in an almost vice-like grip.

His head still bent down, Lancelot muttered.

“I dream of you nightly, of things I should not even be thinking of… of things which I as a Captain should be ashamed of… to be even wanting.”

The young Captain’s fists tightened, feeling his nails chafe into his palms.

“Is it wrong to want?” There was a gentle rustle, a tender movement and the older man’s fingers pressed against the small of Lancelot’s back just lightly. Lancelot felt a slight pressure on the top of his head as Siegfried’s chin rested down upon his dark hair.

“Back in those times when I did not want and I lost so much, and yet now, with each desire that comes, I want to face it.”

“Including you, Lancelot.”

“Would you then face it together with me?”

“As you have promised so bravely back in the forests back then?”

The younger man’s hands relaxed, fists unclenching to press hands flat onto Siegfried’s chest as the latter continued to speak, filling Lancelot’s heart with a wrenching fullness at each question. 

“Yes.”

Lancelot whispered hoarsely, his hands curled inwards back into fists upon the older man’s chest but not a movement of frustration, but determination.  


“Good.” 

Siegfried replied simply, lifting his head away from Lancelot’s bowed one and placed the third kiss on the young Captain’s forehead before tilting his head downwards to press the fourth kiss onto his lips. It tasted faintly of blueberries and apples. Siegfried smiled a little against Lancelot’s lips as they sunk deeper into that final kiss. 

That second hotcake can wait.


End file.
